At the Candlelight
by chibimelodee
Summary: The souls of two siblings who killed for their forbidden love will be reunited in hate when three pure-hearted women will trespass the mansion on the hill. One will be cured. One will be saved. One will be murdered. Brothers will come from a faraway land. On the hill, where snow becomes blood, the deads come alive at the candlelight.
1. Prologue

Thanks to shadowthief-wolf who have helped my sister and I a lot with this story 3  
We dedicate this story to Marina Ka-Fai

* * *

Ghosts are real. They fade away, along with the past, like mist in the daylight… Leaving only small lessons behind... Small certainties... They are things that tie a ghost to a place, very much like us. Some remain tethered to a patch of land or a time and date, the spilling of blood… A terrible crime…. But there are others that hold to an emotion, a drive: loss, revenge, or love… Those, they never leave.

The blood of Alan McMichael on the floor. The broken baluster where Edith had fallen. The chimney in the library, raising as the house took a deep breath of poisoned air. And the ghost of Lucille Sharpe, alone, all alone forever, seated at the piano in the unforgiving cold. Playing the first note of a lullaby, their lullaby…

_Let the wind blow kindly  
In the sail of your dreams  
And the moon light your journey  
And bring you to me…_

* * *

Her bony fingers brushed the keys of the old piano, moving effortlessly at the slow rhythm of the lullaby. She didn't remember how long she had been playing at the dreadful instrument. A minute? An hour? Or a century?

Time moved differently when you're on the other side of the veil of Death. It stretched, it fastened, it slowed, it stopped... It didn't matter. A second lasted an eternity, a year ended with a blink of an eye. Time is indeed a funny thing.

One may think that ghosts don't feel. It's not true. The wind can still tickle their skin. Cold air can bite their non-existent flesh. Fire can burn them. Of course, you can't really hurt a ghost. But the mere memory of these simple things suffices to make a ghost feel.

It was still cold inside the mansion. For all that Lucille knew, no-one had fixed the huge hole of the ceiling. No fire had been lit in the fireplace.

Some small snowflakes fell inside, freezing the air further, making the lady of the house shiver. The snowflakes seemed to dance with elegance in the night air, rocked by the soft piano song.

But Lucille was blind to such a beauty. She remained on the hard small bench, playing the same song again… and again… and again. Thinking about all of the events which had led her to such a state, all the things she had done for the love of her brother.

Sure, her actions had been reckless and at times cruel. They may have lacked some finesse. But she had done them out of love. Thomas, sweet little Thomas, had always been the reason why she had done it. Thomas with the blue piercing eyes. Thomas with his well-mannered gestures. Thomas with his shy expressions. Thomas with his skillful long fingers. Dear young Thomas whom she had been forced to kill.

The strength of her grief and sadness hit her again, knocking the air out of her lungs, a single tear escaping her dead eyes but soon vanishing in a black mist. Her emotions had heightened in death but Lucille remained still, her face unreadable. Always the lady her mother forced her to be. Sentiments were for fools. Conceal. Don't make them know what you feel. Better yet, don't feel. Feelings were the cause of everything. More particularly, love. If Lucille hadn't loved Thomas... If Thomas hadn't loved Edith...

Edith... Blonde, beautiful, innocent Edith... The origin of her situation. Memories invaded her mind: Thomas and Edith entering the ballroom, the both of them dancing together so perfectly, Thomas who had came to see Lucille to ask for her ring so he could ask Edith to be his wife, the jealousy she had felt when he had brought his new bride to Allerdale Hall, the first time Thomas had put poison in Edith's tea, the way he looked at Edith, the night when Thomas had left Lucille alone, the night when he had betrayed his promise, his joy when his machine had finally worked and his will to share it with Edith, his wife's shocked expression when she had discovered their monstrous secret, Thomas's confession about his love for Edith, the way the knife had sunk so easily in his cheek, how his eyes had lost the sparks of life...

All these memories were harassing her again and again... playing forever in her tortured mind... Lucille had finally seen it as a work-in-progress, a riddle she had to solve. Maybe if she could find the particular moment where everything was not upside-down... The moment when Edith was still prey and not a loving wife... Then maybe she could bring him back... But had she ever been prey for him! Why! Why had he chosen her?

All of this made no sense... Thomas couldn't have done that to her! Dear Thomas, so perfect, so handsome, so pure! Still an innocent child she had to protect... And that's what she had done, protecting him against their parents, against this Edith he thought he loved, against himself...

Once dead, no one could hurt him. Once dead, he was safe... Poor Thomas... Dead... But she was dead too. They could be together at last. Two souls united in the same love, bonded forever by the horror they had committed.

Where was he? She had been waiting for him for long, so long... But he won't be long now. He always loved traveling... Yes, it must be that, he must be certainly traveling... Without her, despite his knowledge of her hatred of being alone in this house... Ah, mean Thomas! So broody, so dreamy... She won't scold him for that... No! He would soon be back... They needed money... He would do what needed to be done... He would come back to her!

_We can't live in the mountains,  
We can't live out at sea.  
Where, oh, where oh, my lover,  
Shall I come to thee ?_

Lucille's heart sank a little at the realization she will have to share him again with another stranger. Another innocent woman. Another meaningful wife. Or would it be another Edith? Another bride who would steal his heart? No, this couldn't be… Thomas's heart was hers, only hers… It had always been! This young scatterbrained had only just been an illusion… Surely, he must have been wrong about his feelings, he couldn't have really loved her. All of this had just been an unfortunate mistake, nothing else… He had sworn he would only love her… Forever together… Never apart… He had promised!

Had Thomas always be true to her? Had Thomas ever loved her and her only ? Her who had given him everything, that had done the unforgivable for him. She had tended to his wounds, had stood against their parents… She had killed his wives when their money was theirs. Thomas had always been afraid of death so Lucille had done the dirty work. She had witnessed as his wives took their last breath because Thomas was too weak to be there. He had tried to stay until the end for Margaret, to hold her hand when she was chocking on her own blood but he had been so shaken he had wanted to stop everything, to find another way for the money they lacked. As if they ever had a choice… Poor Thomas who couldn't stand the sight of blood. Naive little Thomas revolted by a life that ends. Forever her baby brother. But what if...

What if he hadn't been there for his wives' deaths because he had also loved them? What if he had betrayed her before Edith? Had his love from her ever been real? Had he been using her for the very beginning? When had he turned his genuine self to the heartless traitor he had become?

Lucille could still feel his hands on hers, the way he used to brush his sinful lips on hers, the feeling on his soft dark curls entangled in her hands, the weight of his body on hers. Lucille could almost hear his voice still speaking of love through wonderful poems. She could still see, just like it was yesterday, how they used to dance in her bedroom... Did Thomas ever do the same to Edith?

She remembered quite well how Thomas had danced with Edith at the McMichael's party. How their eyes locked, just like he used to lovingly look at her when they danced and twirled. Thomas had always been a great dancer. Every time they were celebrating, he used to wrap his lean arms around Lucille's body, taking her into a slow and promising dance. The day she had learnt she was pregnant was the happiest memory she had. Lucille could remember every single detail, from the sparks of glee in Thomas's eyes to the way he had kissed her senselessly.

She knew she could still have it with Thomas. She knew, deep in her heart, that he still had to feel something for her, despite that petulant Edith. All his words, all his touches, all his kisses should have meant something... Once he would be back home, she would soon get rid of this new wife of his and be back in his arms.

Thomas was hers… Forever hers… Only hers!

* * *

Song : Lullaby from Crimson Peak


	2. 1 - Waltz of the Snowflakes

Thanks to shadowthief-wolf who have helped my sister and I a lot with this story 3  
We dedicate this story to Marina Ka-Fai

* * *

Tom Hiddleston was singing loudly, his voice echoing in the small car. Since the beginning of their journey, the three friends were listening to his cover songs of Hank Williams, comfortably sitting in the black Kia Picanto. Marina was singing off-key, slightly dancing while driving safely on the left side of the road. Mélodie was fast asleep, rocked by the road while Mélanie was smiling dreamily, watching the English countryside rolling past the window.

_When you are sad and lonely and have no place to go  
Call me up, sweet baby, and bring along some dough  
And we'll go honky tonkin', honky tonkin'  
Honky tonkin', honey baby  
We'll go honky tonkin' 'round this town._

Marina still couldn't believe it. She was in England, traveling with her friends to see for the first time in forever her favorite actor, Eugene Simon. Mélodie and Mélanie had surprised her with an early birthday gift by planning a tour in London for a couple of days before heading straight to see him in his new play _For King and Country_ in a small village, lost in the countryside of Cumberland.

The three women had spent an amazing time in the capital city, strolling through the best parts of London. The two sisters had introduced Marina to Camden Market where they all had the time of their lives. The three friends had discovered an old tiny shop full of mystery. It was so full of clothes and others ancient items it looked it was about to explode. What brought the young women inside was the odd atmosphere, like frozen in a moment of the past, where only the dust on the shelves seemed to indicate the time that had passed.

No other souls seemed to be in the shop but a tiny little old woman whose face was heavily lined with wrinkles. Only her head was visible over the counter. She stared at them with her big bright eyes, giving her the appearance of an inquisitive owl before she disclosed a partially toothless smile. With a surprising nimbleness, she hopped from behind the counter and went to be in front of the three friends. With a crooked finger, she pointed a corner of the shop and jogtrotted towards it, humming with a creaking voice : « Follow me ! ». The friends shared a doubtful look and followed her without saying a word. The tiny old lady seemed to disappeared behind a rack of various clothes where she began to madly throw a lot of items to them, followed by a joyful « For you ! ». Once pleased of her distribution, the odd tiny woman reappeared, rubbing her hands with glee, showed them a small fitting room and jogtrotted with a smirk back to her counter, where she stared at them again with her bright eyes.

Marina curiously picked up the first garment of her pile of clothing, her eyes popping out in front of the beautiful dark crimson corset, which was embroidered with golden threads. Admiring the finesse of the item, she whispered to her friends : « La gérante me fait flipper mais je dois avouer qu'elle a vraiment bon goût ! ». Smiling at her, the two sisters nodded while Marina kept looking lovingly at the corset, turning it in her hands to contemplate each detail. Her eyes darted to the small label and she groaned in frustration when she saw the price. « Je crois que je vais passer mon tour… » she sighed, looking defeated.

« Ça ne coute rien d'essayer ! » Mélodie encouraged her friend with a smile. « Va vite dans la cabine d'essayage ! Allez, ouste ! On t'attend pour regarder ce que la vieille là-bas nous a choisi… » The last sentence was whispered with a wink, the woman glancing surreptitiously at the old owl at the counter. Laughing softly, Marina disappeared behind the curtain of the fitting room. Minutes later, she reappeared. Sure, it was expensive but it fit her like a glove. She loved how she looked like a true Lannister with it. It matched perfectly with the long black skirt she had brought in her luggage. « Marina, tu es superbe ! » Mélodie exclaimed.

Mélanie was smiling at her, slowly encouraging her friend : « Marina, pour une fois dans ta vie, fais-toi plaisir ! On n'a qu'une vie ! Si tu ne le prends pas, tu vas le regretter… »

« Oui, mais… » Marina started.

« Marina » Mélanie interrupted firmly. « Le prix s'oublie, la qualité reste ! »

« Ah, Mélanie » Mélodie giggled « Audiard n'aurait pas mieux dit. Bon Marina, tu n'as pas le choix ! Audiard a parlé par la bouche de Mélanie… ». The youngest of the three laughed and went to pay it before she changed her mind.

The youngest sister, after a lot of time searching in the huge pile of clothing that lay before her, had chosen a very lovely dress made entirely out of black lace, detailed with roses entwined with skulls. The clothing was the perfect weight for her to feel comfortable in her wheelchair, the lace curiously not itching her very sensitive skin. The long sleeves were loose, so they would not hurt her arms. Mélodie had also picked a very lovely bright pink corset to match with her pink lock of hair, which framed her round face. To go with the corset, she had also chosen a pair of tight leather trousers – of course not too tight around her thights –, beautifully decorated with roses. A knee-length Victorian-styled coat sublimated the outfit.

As for Mélanie, she had particularly liked a very lacy beige skirt, knee-length at the front, falling on the ground on the back. Several layers of fabric fell graciously around her waist and swayed with her every move. The eldest had also found a light brown corset to her liking, with cogs and other steampunk items embroidered on it. A wings-spread crow was plastered on the cleverage, its eyes a bright red. A dark-night gown had also been added to her shopping list, the silky fabric shining in the sunlight, matching with the sparks of blue in her eyes. Some small diamond-like stones were sown at the end to the dress, sparkling like millions of stars. Its pearled sleeves just covered her shoulders, offering room for some bright white gloves. The long dress was falling on the ground in a magnificent train.

After the fittings, Mélanie went discreetly to her sister and whispered : « Je te donne l'argent et tu vas payer ? »

« Tu peux y aller Mélanie, tu sais » Mélodie winked. « Elle ne va pas te manger »

« Elle va me parler en anglais ! » Mélanie squealed, looking horrified, shoving her purse in her sister's hands.

« Oui, c'est normal… Il y a de forte chance qu'elle soit anglaise » her sister rose an eyebrow at her, trying not to laugh at her sister's distress.

« Justement, c'est toi qui parle anglais… » Mélanie pushed her sister in front of the counter and retreated as fast as she could. While Mélodie was paying for their purchases, a ray of sunlight fell on a small item, making it shimmer, catching Mélanie's eyes. Taking cautious footsteps, the young woman went to admire the bronze hairpin, which seemed to call her. The old piece of jewelry was a delicate moth, intriguing art-nouveau patterns shining. It was quite strange that she was attracted by it, this kind of insect not really her favorite. She much more preferred the finesse of butterflies or the joy that was brought by ladybugs. Moths were definitively not insects she liked but nonetheless, there was something alluring about this pin. She needed to have it.

Seeing the want in her sister's eyes, Mélodie quickly waved at Marina to grab it so she could pay for it. She just couldn't resist offering it to her older sister. Mélanie was delightfully surprised by this sisterly surprise, mentally taking note to return the favor later.

_We're goin' to the city, to the city fair_  
_If you go to the city then you will find me there_  
_And we'll go honky tonkin', honky tonkin'_  
_Honky tonkin', honey baby_  
_We'll go honky tonkin' 'round this town._

* * *

They were now in the middle of nowhere, going straight from London to a small village with an unpronounceable name. It was a long drive, especially for the first time in England. Driving on the opposite side of the road had been difficult at first but soon, she had taken her marks.

« Mélanie » Marina called her friend on the back seat, « Tout va bien ? On ne t'entend plus… ». The eldest smiled brightly before she answered in a small voice, avoiding waking her sister up : « Tout va très bien. La campagne anglaise est superbe ! Il faudra vraiment qu'on revienne pour aller voir la maison de Jane Austen dans le Hampshire… Et la ville natale de Shakespeare ! C'est vraiment superbe ! Stratford-Upon-Aven… »

« Quand tu veux ! » Marina exclaimed happily. « Dis, c'est normal que Mélo se soit endormie en même pas deux minutes ? Je sais bien qu'elle dort vite avec son cachet mais là, elle en a pas pris… ». Mélanie laughed softly, watching the sleeping form of her sister from behind. « C'est tout à fait normal, ne t'inquiète pas. Elle dort toujours en voiture… Quand tu t'arrêteras la prochaine fois, tu veux que je vienne devant ? »

The music stopped abruptly and Marina cursed under her breath… Not again ! They still had 4 hours to go, and the thought of 4 hours without music… « Qu'est-ce qui se passe ? » Mélanie asked, leaning fowards to take a look at the old CD-player. The small screen was dead, no sign of life showed when Marina tapped slightly on it.

She sighed and muttered under her breath : « Bon, le reste du voyage se fera sans musique… Désolée, mais c'est une vieille voiture… Ça fait longtemps qu'elle n'a pas roulé autant… ».

« C'est pas grave » Mélanie answered, shrugging « On va parler à la place. Dis, tu as lu le dernier chapitre de notre fic ? Je crois que j'ai exagéré, j'ai écrit dans les 6,000 mots… »

The rest of the journey went smoothly, Mélodie sleeping for the entire time. The conversation between Mélanie and Marina had been changed from their story – where Marina absolutely wanted that Victoria ended up with Kenneth while Mélanie insisted that the dear Vicky married poor Loki – to the upcoming play. Mélanie was a little worried about not understand everything that was going to happen as she understood English better when it was written than if it was spoken. Thankfully, during their trip in London, her sister and her best friend had done all the speaking.

All the fanfictions Mélanie had read in English – thanks to Mélodie – had greatly improved her vocabulary but her shyness stopped her from trying to speak this language. Even with what Vartan – Mélodie and Mélanie's fabrics supplier – had reassured the eldest of the two sisters by telling her that her accent was cute, she still refused to speak English. She was born French, so she would speak French. End of discussion. Anyway, Marina has comforted Mélanie, telling her that she and her sister would help her translate what she didn't understand.

The youngest of the three friends was so excited she kept jumping on her seat. In a few hours, she was going to see Eugene Simon in real life, watch him in a play and – she really didn't know how the two sisters had managed it – she was going to have half an hour with him alone ! Marina swallowed hard, trying to prepare the questions she was going to ask while staying perfectly calm. That would be a complete challenge : she didn't know how she was going to react. Either she was going to stand still and mute, as pale as Death, or she was going to speak very fast and loudly and he would not have a chance to speak.

The night was slowly falling, covering the road with its darkness. Snow was covering the landscape at an alarming speed. The snowflakes danced graciously, making the sight from the inside of the car look like they were in space, flying at light-speed. Laughing soundly, Marina began to hum the Star Wars theme, making Mélodie growled in her sleep.

« Quel réalisme ! » Mélanie laughed softly « On a même Chewbacca ! » Her sister groaned again, just like as if she had heard the sly comment, slightly moving to find a better position in the small vehicle. A loud sound came from the motor, drawing Mélodie into a barely conscious state.

« Qu'est-ce qui se passe ? » She asked, a hint of sleepiness still in her voice. As the answer, the motor coughed loudly. Marina's eyes lingered on the dashboard, trying to figure what was wrong. Snow kept falling so much than she had problems seeing the road even for one meter ahead as the car began to spit a dark grey smoke. Cursing under her breath, Marina tried using the windshield wipers for a better view but the blasted weather was blocking her sight. The snowflakes gave the impression that the billions of stars kept falling down, waltzing through the cold air. Looking at her pocket watch, she noticed they still were at an hour drive from their destination.

The Kia coughed again, shaking violently before stopping abruptly. The three friends looked at each others with fear, silently praying that the car would restart normally. Marina tried several times to turn the key on, but unsuccessful with every trials. Catching Mélanie's glance in the rear mirror, she whispered, trying hard not to panic : « Essaie d'appeler la police ou autre... ».

The eldest nodded and, while she dialed fast on her cell phone, asked shakily : « On est où au juste ? C'est complètement désert ici, on est beau milieu de nulle part ! Je te préviens, dès que ça décroche, je te passe le téléphone, Mélodie ». Her sister's only answer was a long yawn and, unfortunately for them, the phone didn't ring at all, a no-signal logo flashing on the small screen.

Mélanie's face paled, showing her phone to the others. Their pulses raced, colors drained of their faces, their breathing becoming shaky from fear. But no… No. They couldn't freak out. Their hearts were pounding and their palms were sweaty. Fear shot up from the sole of Mélodie's feet and crackled through her entire body like an electric wave, threatening to take off the top of her head. She shook so violently her sister had to slap her – not so hard – to make her stop.

« Qu'est-ce qu'on fait ? Qu'est-ce qu'on fait ? Qu'est-ce qu'on fait ? » Mélodie kept asking, her arms wrapped around herself, slightly rocking back and forth.

« On attend qu'une voiture passe pour demander de l'aide » Marina suggested, not really convincing but after looking through the windows, murmured : « Enfin, si quelqu'un passe parce que je ne sais même pas si je suis encore sur une route… La neige monte à une vitesse alarmante, j'y vois rien ! ».

« Sortons et essayons de trouver quelqu'un… ou au moins une maison » Mélanie tried in a shaking voice. « On va geler si on reste dans la voiture… Déjà que ce ne sera pas facile avec le fauteuil de Mélo, alors si on attend, avec toute cette neige sui tombe, ça sera impossible de sortir de là !… Marina, tu peux prendre nos sacs ? Avec ce temps, je ne suis pas sûre qu'on puisse faire redémarrer ta voiture ce soir ».

Putting on their warmest coats, Mélanie and Marina went out first to retrieve the wheelchair in the trunk. Handling the chair was really difficult in the snow, the ground was already covered by several centimeters. Visibility had shrunk to a ring of no more than a half dozen meters across. A gust of bitter wind ripped the air out of Mélodie's lungs and slapped her full in the face as she went to sit on her wheelchair, the seat already white with the snow. A flash of intense cold made the three friends shiver.

« J'ai froid, j'ai froid, j'ai froid, j'ai froid… » Mélodie whispered, mimicking Anna of the animated Disney _Frozen_, wrapping in several layers of blankets. The scene might have been funny if she was truly being frozen. Her sister was grunting with effort to push the wheelchair and had to ask the help of Marina to maneuver it together, the thick snow making it almost impossible to make it roll through it. To break the seriousness of the situation, Marina began to sing, always in a cheerful mood. She was absolutely sure all was going to be fine, even if she didn't see the damn play… :

_« When you and your baby have a fallin' out_  
_Just call me up sweet mama and we'll go steppin' out_  
_And we'll go Honky Tonkin', Honky Tonkin'_  
_Honky Tonkin', Honey Baby_  
_We'll go Honky Tonkin' 'round this town »_

After half an hour of intense walking and pushing – even though they were sure they hadn't covered many meters with the wheelchair –, a tall frame of what seemed to be a house began to take shape from afar. A faint wavering light seemed to indicate life in the house.

Marina, excited by the discovery which gave her hope, yelled : « Regardez ! Il y a de la lumière ! Je suis sûre qu'on pourra trouver de l'aide ! ». Mélodie, with a dramatic air – and to try to forget the cold –, began to sing :

_« In the velvet darkness of the blackest night_  
_Burning bright, there's a guiding star_  
_No matter what or who, who you are_

_There's a light over at the Frankenstein Place_  
_There's a light, burning in the fireplace_  
_There's a light, light in the darkness of everybody's life »_

Mélanie rolled her eyes, and, gaining momentum to push the wheelchair, sighed : « Si tu veux Mélo ! Je suis même prête à te faire le _Time Warp Again_ à condition qu'on ne soit plus sous la neige…. On est en train de se transformer en glaçon ! ».

« Oui, mais, » her sister nodded before she began to sing again, gently mocking Mélanie :

_« Je suis un très très très gentil glaçon_  
_Un peu con je l'ét...ais déjà au fond ! »_

The eldest mumbled something under her breath, still maneuvering the damn wheelchair and softly slapped the back of Mélodie's head.

They went out on a muddy white road, leading them to the mansion. Everything was desert, smoggy, lifeless… Not even a singing bird or a noisy beetle… But after all, they were in the middle of a snowstorm.

A bleak house stood at the end of a long path, surrounded by skeletal trees. The sight of the supposed to be once-magnificent estate now fallen into such terrible ruin stunned Marina and Mélanie, Mélodie being blinded by the white cover of snow everywhere, studded by what appeared to be blood-like stains. Mélanie repressed a shiver, which was clearly not due to the freezing air. This place was truly eerie. The building was clearly outdated. The stairs leading to the door were wrecked. The facade was dirty and some bricks were missing.

Despite the light coming out from the house, the place seemed abandoned and left in ruin, but right now, all the three friends wanted was a warm room and a phone, which worked.

* * *

Songs : Honky Tonkin by Hank Williams, Over at The Frankenstein Place from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Premier de la glace by Les Fatals Picards


	3. 2 - Ghosts come out to socialize

Thanks to shadowthief-wolf who have helped my sister and I a lot with this story 3  
We dedicate this story to Marina Ka-Fai

* * *

Shivering from the cold, the three friends entered in the house, without bothering to knock on the door as it was wide open. Marina was the first one to step in, shaking slightly to make the snow fell off her coat. She quickly helped Mélanie to bring the wheelchair inside. Mélodie's nose was already turning blue from the cold. The eldest was the last one to enter and she took some time to admire the great hall they were standing in.

« Y'a quelqu'un ? Nous sommes désolées d'être entrées sans y être invitées, mais nous avons vu de la lumière et la porte d'entrée était ouverte… Nous avons besoin d'aide… Ma voiture refuse de démarrer et… nous aimerions passer un appel… » Marina screamed before asking again in English : « Anyone here ? ». A dreadful silence was their only answer.

« Bon apparemment, il n'y a personne ! Nous sommes seules… toutes seules ! » Mélodie said with a shrug.

« Oui… Ou alors le propriétaire est sourd et complément inconscient de laisser sa porte ouverte !... Non pas qu'il ait à craindre le voisinage… Ou alors, il y a un psychopathe qui se cache à l'étage ! » her sister replied like it was evidence itself.

There was a huge foyer, paneled in dark wood, and above it were three stories of ornate balconies and Italianate galleries, profusion of finials and Gothic arches decorated with quatrefoil. Nonetheless, despite the fine detailing, the house was falling into decay, nothing making that more evident than the huge hole in the ceiling. Snowflakes were drifting from it, bringing the cold temperature from the outside. The four walls were full of portraits. A small elevator was standing in a corner. When Marina walked towards the center of the room, she felt the wooden parquet sink in, bringing some red clay to the surface… If it was possible, the inside was even worse than the outside ! There was evidence of damage everywhere, rust and mold and streaks and pools of red clay.

With fear creeping through her veins, Mélodie laughed nervously. Marina and Mélanie looked at her with wide eyes as the invalid took a moment to catch her breath, wiping away some tears from her tired eyes and began to sing the song of the _Disney's Haunted Mansion_ :

_"Now don't close your eyes,_  
_And don't try to hide._  
_Or a silly spook may sit by your side._  
_Shrouded in a daft disguise,_  
_They pretend to terrorize._  
_Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize."_

Scoffing at Mélodie's joke, they relaxed a little. But a little alarm was going off in the back of each girl's mind. Mélodie was right though, the house really looked as if it were haunted. And, while Marina didn't know if she believed in ghosts, the two sisters did. Mélanie shivered a little while she pushed the wheelchair where the light seemed to come from, a bad feeling never leaving her gut. Since she was a child, she always had been sensitive to the supernatural and her instincts seemed to scream at her to run far away from this place as fast as possible. But the terrible snow kept falling, and the three friends knew they had to find something or someone to help.

A single question resounded on their mind : if no-one was in the house, why the hell was there a fire in the fireplace ? With cautiousness steps – or wheels for Mélodie -, the three friends went in what appeared to be the living-room. It was a huge room, filled with darkness despite the warm fire. The furniture appeared to be really old, the stitching on the couch and armchairs was fraying and a heavy layer of dust covered everything. A magnificent piano was prevailing in a corner, its keys already yellow with age. On the other side of the room stood a big table with wooden chairs which seemed to have been carved by hand. A huge window lit them with the faint light of the moon reflecting on the snowflakes. A beautiful chandelier sat above, its candles already half-burned down.

Mélodie shrieked when she glimpsed a huge spider running on the wooden parquet. The awful insect quickly went to hide under the massive rug, afraid of the intruders. « Je déteste les araignées » Mélodie whispered, shivering with fear while Mélanie stopped her wheelchair near the fireplace. The three friends all stood in front of the fire, enjoying its warmth with relief.

A few minutes passed when Marina finally moved, removing her coat and searching in her pocket to find her cellphone. The two sisters looked at her with hope as she tapped madly on it, putting it in the air, all around the room before dropping her head, defeated : « Pas de réseau… »

Removing their coats too, the warmth of the fire making the air a little too hot for them, Mélodie and Mélanie looked contrite at their friend. « Vraiment désolée » the youngest whispered « tout ce chemin et tu ne pourras même pas voir Eugène Simon… C'est pas juste pour toi, c'était ton cadeau ! »

While Marina truly wanted to see her favorite actor in this play, she knew she couldn't blame her friends for the car problem. It was not their fault. It was nobody's fault. Her father had checked the Kia before their trip and everything should have been fine. So, it was truly no-one's fault. Well, maybe it was because of the snowstorm, but nobody could control the weather. After all, they were alive, together, in good health. Eugene Simon would have to wait. It was true, the youngest of the three was sad, but life had decided for them.

« C'est elle !... Par mon père, toujours elle ! » Mélanie stated on a dramatic tone.

« Elle ?... Qui elle ? » Marina asked, worried that the recent events had troubled her friend's mind.

« La Fatalité !... La Fatalité qui vit près de moi ! » Mélanie screamed, raising her arms in the air.

« Voilà qu'elle remet ça ! » Mélodie sighed.

« J'essayais juste de détendre un peu l'atmosphère… Je te promets qu'on trouvera une autre occasion pour que tu puisses le rencontrer » Mélanie said, becoming serious again.

« C'est pas grave » Marina said with a shrug, trying not to look too disappointed. « On le verra une autre fois. Le plus important c'est qu'on ait pas eu d'accident. Je suis sûre qu'on pourra repartir dès demain matin. »

« Mouais » Mélodie answered, not convinced « La neige en Angleterre, ça pardonne pas. Quand on était chez Sarah et Vartan, on a pas pu bouger de la maison pendant 2 jours alors… ». As soon as the words had left her mouth, she knew she shouldn't have said that. It only added a more gloomy atmosphere in the already bitter air.

Watching through the window, they stood silently, the show deadly and yet breathtaking : the white, the flakes and the cold ice bearing down from the sky. The beautiful and dreadful snowflakes trapped them in this dreary house.

_Tombe la neige_  
_Tu ne viendras pas ce soir_  
_Tombe la neige_  
_Tout est blanc de désespoir_  
_Triste certitude_  
_Le froid et l'absence_  
_Cet odieux silence_  
_Blanche solitude_

* * *

« On devrait faire le tour de la maison » Mélanie suggested, breaking the heavy silence. « Trouver un endroit où dormir… et peut-être à manger. ».

« Je ne peux pas monter tous ces escaliers de suite » her sister answered with a sigh. « Encore 10 petites minutes et je devrais savoir me trainer en haut… »

Trying to shake away her bad feeling, the eldest went to the door before she whispered : « Etant donné l'épaisse couche de poussière, je doute que quelqu'un vive ici… ou alors il y a très… très… longtemps ! Ce qui n'explique pas pourquoi le feu est allumé, je sais bien… C'est trop bizarre ! Mais on est forcées de rester ici au moins pour la nuit… Alors autant essayer de trouver un endroit douillet… enfin au moins à l'abri de la neige… On ne devrait certainement pas se séparer, mais il faut que quelqu'un se dévoue ! Mélodie ne peut clairement pas explorer cette « maison » et elle ne peut pas non plus rester seule… Restez-là les filles, je vais aller jeter un coup d'œil ! ». She shivered slightly, the huge hole on the roof letting in so much cold into the hall. Mélanie didn't want to show she was afraid but fear still crept in her. « Bon après tout, la peur n'évite pas le danger et… je n'ai absolument aucune raison d'avoir peur ! Ce que je vais vous demander en complétement ridicule mais si vous pouviez rester au pied de l'escalier et me parler… tout le temps… Fort… Très fort… Histoire que je ne me sente pas trop seule… Et surtout, si je croise le psychopathe qui se cache à l'étage… Sauvez-vous ! »

Nodding fervently, Marina pushed Mélodie near the stairs while Mélanie slowly ascended the wrecked steps. At more than one occasion, she almost slipped, making her sister and her friend gasped. Safely arriving on the first floor, she wiped off the pearls of sweat made by fear that threaten to fall. The walls were bleeding from fissures in the wallpaper. « Vraiment génial ! Et maintenant, on est en plein remake d'_Amityville_ ! » she thought, shivering. Sarcasm was definitively better than fear ! Listening carefully, she heard the two girls talking quietly downstairs before stopping sharp.

The awful singing voice of her sister resounded in the entire house and Mélanie couldn't fight the smile off her face at the perfect choice of the song :

_« J'me donne du courage_  
_mais voilà l'orage_  
_qui vient juste d'éclater !_  
_On dirait des lions_  
_sauvés d'un camion_  
_au bas de mon escalier…_

_Des ombres géantes_  
_plutôt inquiétantes_  
_viennent autour de moi rôder !_  
_Des volets qui claquent,_  
_mon parquet qui craque,_  
_personne pour me rassurer…_

_D'autres que moi,_  
_en pareil cas,_  
_auraient le cœur à 200 à l'heure,_  
_moi j'ai pas peur !_  
_Au fond de moi,_  
_une petite voix_  
_veut s'acharner à me paniquer_  
_mais moi j'ai pas peur ! »_

Gathering all her courage, Mélanie opened the first door which radiated with a strange and sweet glow, like a promise of calm and comfort. She then found herself in a beautiful bedroom. The four-poster king-sized bed seemed to have remained untouched for a very long time. The furnitures were all made from dark wood, the details on them beautifully manufactured. Two large windows, framed by heavy emerald curtains, dived the room with the faint light from the outside. The ceiling appeared to have been crafted into a lighter shade of wood, handsomer graven peaks seemed to be falling of it. The woman stood in the entrance of the bedroom, the beauty of it mesmerizing her.

Mélodie's song coming to an end, Mélanie forced herself to go away. The room itself seemed to hold her in, wrapping her with a benevolent and comforting atmosphere. The three first rooms she visited afterwards were bedrooms too, smaller and less well-furnished than the first one she suggested was the master bedroom. Deciding to see one more room, the woman pushed the next door-knob. The door creaked as it opened but she still got inside. In the moonlight, Mélanie could still see clearly all the dust, filth and dirt laying in the little room. This house could be so much more, it could be spectacular but its inhabitants didn't care much about it. She went beside the far too big desk and took a moment to appreciate the antique and well-decorated item. In the middle of it stood a little wooden casket, beautifully engraved. Unlike the rest of the room, no dust was covering it. On the lid, small encased rubies were shining in the moonlight. Only listening her curiosity, the young woman opened the little box, discovering a small compartment lined with crimson velvet. A jewelry had left its imprint on the fabric, showing the shape of a butterfly.

Before Mélanie could take the jewelry box, an emaciated gloved hand which seemed to be made with dark mist popped out of the armchair and pulled her arm., forcing her to sit in it. Screaming as hard as she could, she tried to shake it away but its grip was too strong. Screaming as hard as she could, she tried to shake it away but its grip was too strong, the bony fingers having too much strength. She tried to unclench the hold of this hand, attempting to grab the bonny fingers, so it could let her go, but Mélanie's fingers just passed through the ghostly hand like it was just a mere illusion. And yet, the young woman could feel the cold of this thing clinging on her, its nails sinking in her flesh while the ghostly fingers tightening its grip more and more.

In the corner of her eyes, Mélanie saw a tall crimson shape flickering, its wrecked body moving with difficulty. It crawled slowly, letting a bloody trail after it. The creature looked up with hate at the frozen young woman. Pointing a single digit at her, it managed to whisper with a harsh and guttural voice : « Go away, you monster ! You are not welcome here ! Hellish brood ! Seed of the Devil ! Be damned, you ungrateful child ! Be damned ! Be damned ! ». The crawling ghost uttered a horrible and chilling shriek that seemed to echo in every cell of the young woman. It put its skeleton arm around its neck as if to stop someone invisible from choking it. Barely slowing down in its progression, it was just at mere inches from Mélanie. She then could see the huge gap, separating its skull in two, forever showing the deadly blow it once had had. Mélanie couldn't move, fear immobilizing her, her breath shaky, tears beginning to fall on her cheeks. Closing her eyes in a desperate attempt to escape from the scene which took place in front of her, trying to believe that nothing at all was happening, she started chanting : « Allez-vous-en ! Laissez-moi ! Par pitié ! Je suis désolée… Je suis désolée… Allez-vous-en ! Allez-vous-en ! ». Seconds later, as Marina appeared, the foggy hand vanished just as the other ghostly red apparition.

« Qu'est-ce qui se passe ? » Marina asked worringly, looking at the room carefully. « Tout va bien ? » Mélanie's face was a pale as Death and she was struggling to even breath. Her friend ran to her, not really knowing what to do to calm her. She was in a state of shock, rocking back and fort on the big armchair.

« Viens Mélanie, on va descendre... » She whispered soflty, gently patting her back to show support. What could have possibly happened to her ? On their way downstairs, the two women stayed close, Mélanie clinging for dear life at Marina's arms, her entire body shaking uncontrollably.

* * *

Mélodie was waiting for them, uneasiness clearly written on her face. Despite her fear, she had tried to remain calm. A tiny papillon dog was sitten near her feet, its tail happily swinging when it saw two other people. It barked softly, running to meet the new arrival.

« Mélanie, ça va ? » her sister asked, her voice shaking with her emotions. « Tu es blanche comme un linge… Il y a quelque chose en haut ? Le psychopathe ? »

« S'il y a quelque chose en haut ? » Mélanie murmured angrily. « Des fantômes, voilà ce qu'il y a en haut ! Je vous jure que j'ai vu quelque chose bouger et qu'une main m'a agrippée ! On est dans une foutue histoire de Maupassant ! Vous savez, celle avec la main d'écorché… Elle était « affreuse, noire, sèche, très longue », reliée à aucun corps et elle m'a agrippée ! Elle ne voulait pas me laisser partir et c'est pas tout… Il y avait aussi… Il y avait… »

« Essaie de te calmer… Je suis sûre qu'il doit y avoir une explication logique » Marina said softly, trying to ease the tension and shake away the fear that threatened to take hold of them. « Tu as dû t'assoupir ou… »

« Je sais ce que j'ai vu » The eldest answered, looking pleadingly at her sister for comfort. « J'étais devant le bureau et une main a surgi du fauteuil pour m'agripper et il y avait cette silhouette rouge bizarre et…C'est pas bon… C'est pas bon du tout… Elles sont en colère »

« Elles sont plusieurs ? » Mélodie asked

« La dame et la main ! » Mélanie answered with a firm tone just like it was evidence.

« La main est en colère ? Comment une main peut-elle être en colère ? » the younger sister retorted, not succeeding to hide her incredulity.

« Elle… m'a… aggrippée ! » the eldest screamed, on the brink of a nerve crisis. « Je leur ai dit de partir mais… mais elles n'ont rien voulu entendre… et… et Marina est arrivée ! »

« Mélanie, calme-toi… C'est normal qu'elles ne t'ont pas laissée tranquille… Je parie que tu leur as parlé en français… Est-ce que tu es sûre que les fantômes anglais comprennent le français ? La prochaine fois, essaie le latin ! » Mélodie tried to comfort her, taking her cold hand into both of hers.

« Parce que tous les fantômes comprennent le latin ? » Marina asked, not knowing what to do to calm her friend.

« Mais bien sûr ! Ils disparaissent tous dès que tu prononces le classique « Vas dans le métro, Ananas ! ». C'est imparable ! » Mélodie laughed heartedly, trying to lighten the mood before she saw the murderous glare of her sister. « Ecoute, Mélanie Ravenswood ! On n'est pas dans le Manoir hanté ici ! Tu es vraiment sûre de ce que tu as vu ? On est crevée… On est dans une maison inconnue au milieu de nulle part… C'est grand, flippant, rempli d'araignées… de méchantes araignées, des grosses, avec des pattes poilues… des araignées anglaises !... Et puis j'arrête pas de te chanter des trucs de fantômes depuis qu'on est arrivées… Alors c'est pas étonnant que tu imagines des trucs du genre :

_Entrée par erreur, au musée des horreurs_  
_Je m'fais des frayeurs j'entends battre mon cœur_  
_Les esprits frappeurs sont-ils à l'intérieur ?_  
_Et s'ils sont ailleurs, qui cogne comme un boxeur ?_  
_Pince-moi, j'hallucine, j'rêve pas,_  
_Y a quelque chose qui m'turlupine_  
_Pince-moi, j'hallucine_  
_J'rêve pas, je nage dans l'hémoglobine_  
_Y a des fantômes ! Y a des sorcières…_  
_Y a des l'Halloween dans l'air ! »_

« C'est tout à fait ça ! « Tu parles d'une demeure, si j'en sors pas... je meurs ! » T'as fini de te moquer de moi ? On voit bien que c'est pas toi qui ait été agressée ! Je sais ce que j'ai vu ! » Mélanie screamed again while the little dog barked harder. Looking down at the small animal, she kneeled and caressed it, feeling its delicate bones beneath its icy, matted coat. « Qu'est-ce que ce chien fait là ? » She asked, noticing a blank collar around its neck.

« Je ne sais pas » Mélodie answered, shrugging. « Il est venu près de moi quand Marina est montée te rejoindre ». After her declaration, the pup grew quiet, its tail curled fearfully between its legs. The dog cowered and Mélanie looked around, trying to see what it saw. But there was nothing. Turning around, she was about to push her sister towards the stairs when she spotted in the mirror the dark shape of a woman on the far side of the room. The faint light caught some trail wafting behind the woman in a strange way, faint strands that appeared to be glowing as they floated upward. Turning quickly to face the stranger, Mélanie was faced with nothing. The woman was gone. Had there ever been a woman here ?

« Elle était là ! » Mélanie screamed, poiting at the mirror.

« Qui ? » Marina asked, starting to feel the sheer panic of her friend.

« Une dame… en noir ! » the eldest answered, angst filling her voice.

« Elle était pas rouge tout à l'heure ? » Mélodie cut, clearly skeptical.

« Si… Qu'est-ce que tu veux que je te dise ? Soit c'était pas la même, soit c'était Jeanne Mas ! » the young woman answered, more and more irritated.

« Heu… Désolée Mélanie… Je n'ai rien vu… Il n'y a rien dans ce miroir… » Marina interfered quietly, trying to calm the upcoming tensions.

« Bon avec tout ça, dis-moi que tu nous as trouvé un endroit pour dormir... parce que t'es restée super longtemps en haut… avant de te mettre à crier ! » Mélodie cut. At this moment, she only wanted one thing : to sleep… It was the only option to avoid thinking about ghosts.

« Oui ! Je suis pas montée juste pour dire bonjour à Casper et à la Chose ! Je nous ai trouvé une superbe chambre, dans le genre Maison Hantée à Disneyland ! » Mélanie said, her voice shaking with fear and exasperation. « Elle est suffisamment grande pour qu'on y dorme toutes ensemble… parce qu'il est… hors… de… question… qu'on se sépare à nouveau ! ». Nodding their agreement, the two others waited for more instructions from the eldest. « Marina, monte nos bagages pendant que j'aide Mélodie à monter les escaliers… On mangera nos sandwiches dans la chambre. Je ne me sens pas vraiment d'humeur à chercher la cuisine pour le moment ! »

* * *

Songs : Grim grinny ghost from Disney's Haunted Mansion, Tome la neige by Salvator Adamo, Moi j'ai pas peur by Anne, Pince-moi j'allucine by Annie Cordy


End file.
